kill

from sore lungs to
peeling skin; blood
i sit in a puddle of 
not-quite-sure-what-just-fucking-happened's

do you hear me - no, no
every word I say is
pain to your ears and you
shut me out

it is physical hurt, too.

the wall is
steady 
ready
for my turn to crash
in a car without brakes
i am free falling

away from the world I don't love
well, goodbye to you, too

you threaten me with
knives on your wrist 
and I can feel about
ten on my chest

do I have a choice?

a tornado
crashing through my room
I am blind to material and
bruise myself - quite unintentionally - to make
the ache cease
- how?

Somehow, it works
it worked

I am
emotionless

now.